If They Knew
by darkgirl11
Summary: Clint was still recovering from the attack on New York. He's become depressed but that's not all he's hiding. When he locks himself in his room, he cries tears of black and cuts himself, watching the black blood pour out. He doesn't belong here with them. He isn't needed. They find him just when he's about to die and call in a friend to help make Clint stay. A dash of Winterhawk


_If They Knew_

Summary: Clint was still recovering from the attack on New York. He's become depressed but that's not all he's hiding. When he locks himself in his room, he cries tears of black and cuts himself, watching the black blood pour out. He doesn't belong here with them. He isn't needed. They find him just when he's about to die and call in a friend to help Clint stay.

If They Knew

It had been months since the attack on New York. It had been declared by multiple psychologists that Clint was free from Loki's mind control and he was cleared to fight again. He had earned the Avengers trust again but he never felt like he deserved it. He never felt like he deserved to be on a team with all of them. Each of them had something that made them a superhero. Clint had nothing that made him a superhero.

Steve was Captain America with his super soldier serum, making him just about perfect at everything. Tony was Iron Man while also being one of the smartest men ever known. Did Clint mention Tony was a billionaire, too? Bruce was the Hulk, but in his spare time he was a well-known scientist and doctor. Natasha was Black Widow, genetically created to live longer so she could continue to be the world's best assassin and spy. Don't even get Clint started on Thor.

Clint was Hawkeye, just some guy who could shoot a bow and arrow with great accuracy. They called him the greatest marksmen in the world but people also said that about the Winter Soldier. Clint knew his place here. His job was to stand on top of the tallest building and call out whatever he saw. Stay away from the battle so you can't mess anything up. Leave it to the superheroes to handle everything.

There was a reason they were called superheroes because they all had something that made them _super_. Clint knew he had nothing that made him super and he didn't think he even deserved to be called a hero. Not after what he did when Loki controlled him. Everyone wanted him dead for what he did. He, himself, wanted himself dead. He deserved it after he killed so many people.

But Natasha spared him. Of course, she would save him. She always saved him. He saved her once and she felt that she had a debt to him now. He told her that she had long since then repaid him. She never believed him. She told him that he gave her a second chance, a better life and that there was no way she would ever be able to repay him for that. But Clint never stopped telling her she didn't have a debt to him anymore. He had one to her.

After the battle with Loki, Clint had locked himself in his room and cried. He wailed for all the people he killed. But when he lifted his head up from his pillow, blackness was all over it. He had jumped up and ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror to see what looked like black ink running down his face like tears. He couldn't tell the others. He couldn't tell them he cried black tears. They wouldn't want him.

During a mission, Clint had fallen off a building and got cut by glass when he fired the grappling arrow and swung himself into a building. When he stood up to examine the cut on his arm, he saw the same black ink looking liquid coming out of his cut. He backed up, as if he was trying to get away from himself. He wrapped the cut up in more bandaged than necessary. He couldn't tell them he bled black blood. They wouldn't want him.

Whenever he got hurt, he would never go to medical. He made sure when he got hurt, he wouldn't break any bones or get hurt to the point where he would need stitches. They couldn't know about his secret. They'd throw him out. They would find someone else to fill in for him. He was expendable, after all. Anyone could shoot a bow and arrow with great accuracy. Just find an Olympic archer. There you go. The new Hawkeye.

Clint became distant after missions. Whereas everyone else would be in the living room trying to forget about the mission, Clint would be in his room beating himself up about the mission. He'd go over every bit of the mission and point out where he had failed. He always found a part in the mission where they didn't need him. He was human. There was nothing special about him. He was fragile. One shot to the heart and he was dead.

He always sat in the corner of his room with a knife by his side. He always told himself they didn't need him. They were only keeping him around because Natasha was his best friend and they refused to work with anyone else if they didn't have the other. They always stuck him on that building so he couldn't get in the way. One time, they forgot to pick him up from the top of a building.

The archer sat on top of that building for hours, waiting for someone to remember he was on top of the building. He waited for them to come back for him. He waited until the stars came up at night for someone to come for him. But no one came. When he made it back to the tower, they all looked like they felt bad for leaving him behind. Tony tried to joke about it to lighten the mood. Clint joked with him and then he retired to his room.

That's where he walked over to the mirror in his bathroom with a permanent marker in hand and wrote words all over the mirror. _Liability. Weak. Useless. Expendable. Fragile. Human. Burden. Purposeless. Unneeded. Brainwashed._ He stepped back and looked at his work. Then he moved in and wrote in all capital letters in the middle of the mirror: _YOU WILL ALWAYS BE WORTHLESS._

Black tears escaped his eyes and fell down his cheeks and onto the floor. He put his hands on the counter and stared at all the words, letting each of them sink in. Each word sank into him like knives and he welcomed them. He especially welcomed the knives in real life that cut into his wrists and made him bleed black. He deserved this pain. He deserved to feel like this. He deserved it all.

It was after another mission when Clint found himself in the corner of his room again, sitting beside his knife. He had been shot off his building by the enemy and his grappling arrow refused to deploy, forcing Tony to catch him and put him on another building farther away from the fight so he wouldn't get hurt. Clint knew he deserved that. He forced Tony to leave the battle for him. He got in the way again.

They had won the battle but Natasha had sprained her wrist, forcing her to wear a brace on her left wrist. It had to have been his fault. It was always his fault, wasn't it? He was the weak link on the team so it had to have been his fault. Clint pulled out his phone and plugged his headphones into it, wanting to drown out the world with music. Drown out everyone as he cried and bled.

 _They think you're crazy,_

 _They think you're mad._

 _They call you stupid, worthless,_

 _Tell you you're not worth it._

 _Now you're walking back to a place you call home,_

 _But you feel so alone._

 _The same hurtful hits,_

 _It's your darker place._

 _In your virgin ears,_

 _The remarks they make._

Clint's shoulders started to shake as he listened to the words, as he _felt_ the words. They sank right into him, right into his heart and they hurt. He brought the knife up to his eyes and looked at his reflection in the blade. He saw a pair of sad stormy blue eyes. Those eyes used to be brighter. They used to be happy. They used to sparkle when he laughed or smiled. They used to be _alive_.

 _And if they,_

 _If they really knew,_

 _All of those things that you do in your room,_

 _To hide the pain._

 _I bet their minds would change…_

 _I'll bet their minds would change…_

Black tears made their way down Clint's cheeks as he brought the knife along his left wrist, black blood oozing out. There. Now he could feel pain with Natasha. No, this could never be the same as Natasha's pain. She was probably in far more pain. He needed to even it out so he made more cuts on his left arm, reopening old scars from previous cuts. There. That's better. Black blood dripped from his arm and onto the carpet. He would have to clean it later.

 _They'd change if they knew the pain._

 _They'd change…_

 _Cause I believe in these scars…_

 _I believe…_

Clint changed the song when the other one was done. He looked down at his arm, almost admiring the cuts he made. In the morning, they would be scars. They would always be scars the next day. No scabbing, just scars. He didn't know why but it didn't matter. He was actually kind of grateful for it because that meant he could cut himself the next night and everything would be better in the morning.

 _If I wasn't here tomorrow,_

 _Would anybody care?_

 _If my time was up I'd wanna know,_

 _You were happy I was there._

 _If I wasn't here tomorrow,_

 _Would anyone lose sleep?_

 _If I wasn't hard and hollow,_

 _Then maybe you would miss me._

No one would miss him if he wasn't there tomorrow, or at least that's what he thought. Nobody would care at all. No one would lose sleep, either. In his opinion, they would get more sleep because they wouldn't all be up at night wondering when Clint would get possessed again and kill them like he killed all those other innocent people. How many had he killed again? Oh, right, he killed so many he can't remember the number. Better feel their pain, too.

 _I know I'm a mess,_

 _And I wanna be someone,_

 _Someone that I'd like better._

 _I can never forget,_

 _So don't remind me of it forever, forever…_

He went after his right arm this time, cutting his skin over and over again. How many people had he killed? Taken them away from their friends and families… he took them out of the world yet he lives on with people always telling him it wasn't his fault. Yes, it was. He always thought he should have been stronger. He should have pushed Loki out of his mind and stopped himself but he couldn't. Clint slashed his skin muttering, "Weak…"

 _What if I just pulled myself together?_

 _Would it matter at all?_

 _What if I just tried not to remember?_

 _Would it matter at all?_

 _All the chances that have passed me by,_

 _Would it matter if I gave it one more try?_

 _Would it matter at all?_

Clint looked down at his work before he started feeling lightheaded. He grabbed his phone and knife and stumbled into the bathroom, falling to the floor. Pain enveloped him as he realized that when he fell, he accidentally stabbed himself in the chest. He flipped onto his back and lifted his head up to see the knife lodged there like it belonged in his chest. Black blood was seeping out of the wound and onto the bathroom floor. Clint smiled. This was nice.

 _If I wasn't here tomorrow,_

 _Would anybody care?_

 _Still stuck inside this sorrow,_

 _I got nothing and going nowhere._

 _I know I'm a mess,_

 _And I wanna be someone,_

 _Someone that I'd like better._

 _I can never forget,_

 _So don't remind me of it forever…_

Blackness was starting to cloud his vision and he welcomed it. Was he going to die? Finally. Sure, they would all think it was suicide and in a way it sort of was but he didn't mean for it to happen but, hey, he was going to die at some point so it might as well be now. Black tears fell down his face as he took out his headphones and heard his teammates banging on his door, asking if he was okay. He groaned and put his headphones back in. Why did they care?

 _What if I just pulled myself together?_

 _Would it matter at all?_

 _What if I just tried not to remember?_

 _Would it matter at all?_

 _All the chances that have passed me by,_

 _Would it matter if I gave it one more try?_

 _Would it matter at all?_

He couldn't hear them anymore, just the music. He relaxed and started to close his eyes. The Devil must be waiting for him so he shouldn't keep him waiting anymore. It was time to work in the mines of Hell, his punishment for all the innocent lives he took. He would proudly work in the mines, he deserved it after all. Right before he blacked out, he could hear a door being broken down and then he was out of it.

The Avengers broke the door down, Natasha leading them into the room with Steve and Bruce right behind her as Tony and Thor trailed in the rear. She quickly walked to the bathroom and screamed at the sight of her partner on the bathroom floor with a knife in his chest and black blood in a pool with Clint's body. Steve and Bruce walked in, Bruce almost throwing up at the sight.

Tony barged through all of them and started shaking. Thor charged through all of them and picked Clint up, exclaiming, "Now is not the time for standing still! He needs assistance!" They all nodded and rushed Clint to the tower's medical wing. Bruce worked on him for hours, somehow managing to stabilize him. Everyone sighed in relief when Bruce told them Clint would be fine and would wake soon. Tony had Jarvis keep an eye on Clint as they went back to his room. They needed to know why he did this.

Tony walked in first and went straight into the bathroom. He looked at the mirror and took a step back in shock. He looked at each of the words written on the mirror, not really noticing that the others had crowded in behind him to look at the mirror, as well. Everyone's eyes went wide when they finally saw the words written across the middle of the mirror. _YOU WILL ALWAYS BE WORTHLESS._

Natasha's unbraced hand covered her mouth in shock, did Clint really feel that way about himself? How could they have been so blind? Clint was always so distant but they didn't realize _this_ was what he was doing after missions when he would lock himself away in his room. Bruce had managed to sneak away from the group, noticing the trail of black blood that lead from the bathroom to a corner in the room.

As the others tried to calm Natasha down in the bathroom, Bruce had discovered Clint's black blood corner where he would cut himself after missions. He looked at the carpet, some stains looked fresh and some looked old. This must have been going on for a while. Why didn't they notice this sooner? Clint was even better than Tony at using that damn fake smile. He was such an eccedentesiast. A better one than they thought.

When they went back to the medical wing of the tower, Clint was still asleep. Bruce walked over to Clint and gently grabbed his wrist, revealing the scars from his cutting. His cuts he made were already healed and scarred. Bruce put Clint's arm down and everyone sat down around their archer as Bruce sighed, "I don't know what's wrong… he bleeds black blood… this isn't normal and I don't have an explanation this time."

"I think I have an explanation," Thor stood up, "our friend is not normal. Not anymore. I'm afraid that when Loki took control of his mind, he gave him immortality, as well. Immortals bleed blood of black. It is also said that they can shed tears of black, too. His wounds are already healed due to his immortality. There is nothing I can do to take back his immortality, my friends."

"Maybe I can finally call myself as superhero, now…" Mumbled a familiar voice.

Everyone turned to see Clint sitting up in his bed, looking as good as new. Everyone pulled their chairs in close to him, but no one really knew what to say. Natasha gripped his hand and looked into his eyes as she whispered to him, "You were always a superhero, Clint. You always have been and you always will be. Didn't you know that?" He removed his hand from her and brought his knees up so he could wrap his arms around them.

He looked away from them as he said brokenly, "I'm not a superhero. Before Loki, there was nothing super about me. I was just a guy with a bow and arrow. I still am. I always will be." A black tear fell down his cheek as he blinked before continuing, "There was nothing special about me. I was useless. I still am. Just because I'm immortal, that doesn't change much. I'll still be stuck on a building calling out strays. You don't need me."

Everyone was about to protest when more tears came out as he continued, "Anybody can shoot a bow and arrow. I have no purpose here. You would be better off with anyone else here. Have Falcon on the team. Cap, I'm sure you'd love it if your other best friend was here. He could watch the skies and fly. He'd do more than I ever could for this team. I don't belong here. I never did."

They were going to speak when Clint held up a hand to stop them so he could keep talking, "None of you knew who I was before this. There was a reason for that. I'm nothing. I'm wasting space here. I'm wasting your time, even now. I don't deserve to be a part of this family. Cap's our leader, Tony's the brains, Bruce is the brains and the muscle, Thor's a fucking god, and Natasha could kill us without breaking a sweat. I don't fit in here. I'll be gone tomorrow."

"Clint, please-"

"Please, leave me alone. I've wasted your time enough. I'll be gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Clint-"

"Please, go away…"

They all looked at each other uneasily but left anyways. They didn't want to push him too much in this state. He was immortal now so he couldn't kill himself so they didn't have much to worry about. Bruce and Tony made sure Jarvis kept an eye on Clint as Steve and Natasha went out to retrieve someone to help Clint. Thor went into the kitchen to get poptarts. He was getting hungry.

 _The Next Morning…._

Just as Clint was going to jump out the window with his bow in hand, an unfamiliar voice asked, "Where are you going?" Clint got his bow and arrows ready to attack and when he turned around, he was met with the Winter Soldier. Clint let out a deep breath before answering the other male, "I'm leaving here. I never belonged on this team. They're all superheroes and I'm… not."

"What's your name?"

"Clint Barton. You?"

"I'm James but I guess people call me Bucky."

"You guess?"

Bucky sat down and motioned for Clint to sit down near him. Clint hopped back on the bed and listened as Bucky told his story of how he fell of the train and lost his left arm, only to have it and his memories replaced. He told Clint all about how he got brainwashed and was turned into the Winter Soldier. Only recently did he get most of his memories back, but he never really knew why he was called Bucky.

Clint liked talking to Bucky, someone who knew how it felt to be brainwashed. He knew how it felt to have someone take out what was in there and put in something else. He knew what it was like to be unmade. Bucky looked over at Clint as he stated, "You mean more to this team than you realize. Why else would they call in someone like me to make you stay? You can't be that stupid."

The archer wanted to glare at him but found himself smiling instead. A real smile. But it disappeared as quickly as it came. Bucky leaned in as he went on with a cocky smirk, "You're a fucking idiot, Barton. You're the heart of the Avengers and you don't even know it. Thank God you have a pretty face because your brain isn't doing so well. They need you. You helped save the world. You can't tell me that doesn't mean anything."

He smirked when Bucky called him pretty but it went away when he asked the soldier, "When's the last time you saw an archer save the world by himself? And when's the last time the archer was the most dangerous one on the team? Tell me, when's the last time an archer was someone every kid wanted to be?" Bucky leaned back and thought for a minute before he shrugged.

"Why don't you be the first to do all of that?"

Now it was Clint's turn to lean back. Be the first? Be the first to be the most dangerous on the team? Him? Clint Barton? No, there was no way he could do that… well, not unless he tried. Clint shook his head and smiled, almost chuckling to himself. He looked up at Bucky and stated, "How about this, I'll be the first to do all of that _and_ I'll stay on the team but… you have to join the Avengers."

Bucky actually laughed at that and then he realized Clint was being serious. He thought about it and listened in as Clint basically pleaded, "Please, you have to join. So many kids used to want to be you and now that you're better, even more kids are going to want to be like you. Come on, Bucky, please?" Clint smirked as he added, "Besides, you don't want to get fat because you're not doing anything. Don't be lazy."

"They aren't going to want me. They know what I've done."

"They know what I've done and still want me. Good thing you have a pretty face because-"

"Shut the fuck up, Barton." Bucky laughed.

"Well, what do you say?"

Bucky thought about it again. It sure would be nice to save the day again and work with Steve once more. Besides, he had Clint now and they could help each other. He knew they would come to need each other since they already were now. He might as well just join. He sighed before he stated with a smirk, "Alright, Barton, I'll join the Avengers but… you have to go on a date with me." Clint gave a real smile before saluting the soldier.

"Roger that."

 _AND DONE!_ I wanted to get another short story out there today and I wanted it to be more about the Avengers but still have some Bucky there. Winterhawk in the early stages! Yay! Anyways, I know it's short but it is a short story. I felt that no one really dove into Clint's inner feelings in other stories so I hope mine did! Sorry for any mistakes!

THERE WILL BE A SHORT SQUEL TO THIS IS ANYONE WANTS IT. PROBABLY WILL BE CALLED "NOW THEY KNOW."

 _Songs in order of appearance: "If You Knew" by Joel Faviere/Sew Intricate & "Would It Matter At All" by Skillet._

 _I suggest you listen to those songs when I use them in the story!_

 _Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review if you liked this! Thanks for everything!_


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